Fic: Lost and Found 2/? , Heir Series, Rated: PG, Seph McCauley, Leander Hastings, Genevieve LeClerc
Title: Lost and Found 2/?
Author: in_excelsis_dea
Characters: Leander Hastings, Seph McCauley
Fandom: Heir Series
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Prompt: firstline_fic week 23 A____, a______ and a____ walk into a bar.
AN: You can find the first chapter here. Spoilers of Seph's parentage, obviously. I've never been to Canada, so thank MapQuest, Google and the Ontario Parks website along with the Mattamy Homes as an approximation of where Leander and Seph started out (about ten or so minutes past Stouffville, Ontario). Oh hyperfocus, how you make me anal about miniscule details in my fiction... Enjoy.
"A preacher, a rabbi and a monk walk into a bar." They are greeted with the joke as they walk into the diner, a couple of older men laugh, seated at the booth next to the door. The rest of the joke is lost under the clamor of pots and pans, a cook calling a waitress to hurry and pick up a platter of food, and the noise of other patrons eating dinner.
This is not usually a place he would be dining at, but in his long life he has learned many times over that beggars cannot be choosers, and unless he wants to drive another two hours, this is the best he's going to find. And, to be honest, he isn't sure he could last another two hours in the car with a sullen adolescent, who goes from staring at him accusingly to ignoring him to watching him expectantly, as if he's just going to blurt out the information and then dump him out of the car.
Not for the first time, Leander is reminded that his experience with children extends to training warriors and that's it. And something tells him that working with Joseph- he finally asked the boy his name once they were in the car- is not going to be the same.
Far from it, actually.
"We're going to eat here?" Joseph asks, adding five words to the possible ten he's said to Leander the entire drive. The others were "Joseph McCauley" in response to Leander asking his name, "twelve and a half," in response to Leander asking his age, "yes" to asking if he had lived his entire life with Genevieve LeClerc, "no" to if he had any idea who Linda was, "no" to if he needed to use the restroom and "no" to if he was too hot from the heating, after Leander had finally grown tired of his squirming in his seat.
"Yes," Leander keeps his answers short and surveys the crowded dining room before spotting an empty booth against a window in the corner and bee lining for it. Joseph trails after him, eyes taking in the surroundings. He slides in the booth, his back to the wall, and picks up a menu lying on the table. "Order what you wish."
Joseph slides into the other side and eyes him skeptically before taking up the menu and reading it. The moments pass in silence before a tired waitress, trying her best to be cheery, shows up, order pad in hand. "Welcome to Perry's. My name is Danielle and I'll be your server. Can I get you anything, gentlemen?" She smiles largely, displaying white teeth. "Are you up here for the retreat?"
"...the retreat?" Joseph questions. Leander would prefer it if she just left them alone, but if she's getting the boy to open up, then perhaps her presence is not a bad thing. He makes a conscious effort to reign in his Persuasion, knowing full well the effect of Persuasion on Anaweir- especially Anaweir women.
"Of course, the Scout retreat. There's a father-son Scout retreat up in Arrowhead- it's about twenty minutes away from here, so we've had people in and out all day. You're running a bit late, though." She gives them a dazzling smile, but it is lost on them both.
Joseph is staring at her in shock and, well- he's not as calm as he'd like to be.
This is not how he planned this.
Not that he exactly planned anything in the first place...
"He's not my father," Joseph finally says, scowling at the waitress. "And I'm not a Scout."
"Oh, sorry!" The waitress flushes. "It's just- well, you look so much alike." She taps her order pad with her pen. "So I figured, well, you know- I didn't mean anything by it-"
"I'll have the trout, with salad as my side. And coffee, please." Leander cuts in. He has a feeling he'll end up needing the coffee.
"Oh! Um...a hamburger, with french fries, please. And a Coke?" Joseph half questions, looking at Leander, who merely motions with his hand that it's fine.
"I'll be back in a sec with your drinks, then." The waitress takes their menus and hurries off, already being called by someone in the back to pick up an order.
"So..." Joseph trails off, staring at his place mat.
"So." Leander echoes, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. "Your name is Joseph and you are twelve and a half years old. That woman- Genevieve- she was your guardian?"
"My foster mother," the boy keeps staring at the table. "She- she said my mother was a Toronto based flight attendant and my father was a software entrepreneur from California. And when I was about a year old, there was a fire in our house in the California Canyon and they died. Genevieve was my nanny and so she got custody of me, I guess."
"But you do not believe this." It is a statement rather than a question, and it causes Joseph to look up at him surprised.
"No, I don't." He says firmly. "I did some researching at school and in the library. There are no records of my parents, nothing in the newspapers about the fire. The only document that exists is my birth certificate."
"So you asked Genevieve."
"I asked her a lot," he looks back down at the table, pulls his napkin from underneath his silverware and puts it in his lap. "Even before I did the research- I just knew there was something wrong. It didn't feel right. But she wouldn't tell me and I'm really convincing on most people, but I didn't like to- I don't know, force it out of her."
"It's called Persuasion," Leander offers, and then stops as the waitress drops off their drinks and leaves again. He picks up his coffee, but does not drink, while Joseph dives into his Coke with gusto. "It's a wizard power- I assume she told you about the Guilds?"
"Not much," he admits, almost shamefully. "There are five guilds- Enchanters, Wizards, Warriors, Sorcerers and Soothsayers. We're born with a crystal in our chest, and our crystal determines what we are. I'm a wizard, she's a sorcerer. Wizards need training- but she always refused to find someone to teach me. The other guilds don't. She- I helped her shop for ingredients sometimes. And helped her stir things once in awhile. Potions for healing and stuff. But she didn't like to, er, advertise it, I guess. And she never liked me to use my powers."
"Wizards have a bad reputation," Leander sips his coffee. Not good, but it isn't horrible either. "And, for the most part, it is deserved. There are two Houses- the Red Rose and the White Rose. There was a war centuries ago- the War of the Roses?" He notices Joseph nod, "ah, so you've heard of it. Before the War of the Roses, there were many battles between wizards. This continued on for centuries until the War of the Roses was fought and a document called the Rules of Engagement was adopted. It is a nasty document that basically gives power- political power- to the wizards and regulates the other guilds as servants- which is why they are called the servant or under guilds. Since the fifteenth century, the other guilds have been sought after, kidnapped and tortured. They are forced into service to wizards. It does not surprise me in the least that your foster mother was wary of your powers- the Anawizard Wier have developed a deep distrust and dislike of the wizard guild."
"Genevieve said she was once in service to a wizard in France, and she had scars on her wrists she never talked about." Joseph keeps his head down, his voice quiet.
"Shackles, no doubt." Leander puts down the coffee, folds his hands on the table. "Throughout the centuries, wizards have committed travesties against the other guilds. There is a black market for the under guilds. It is called the Trade." He pauses, wondering how to bring up Linda. It is silly- he fought the Trade for over a century before he and Linda met, and he continued to fight after Linda's disappearance- and yet, the Trade and Linda are interconnected in his mind. He cannot think of the Trade without remembering her.
Or wondering where she might be.
"I've never heard of it," Joseph mumbles into his drink.
"I am not surprised. It is a nasty thing. There are traders- wizards- who read genealogies, tracing family lines, following leads, hunting the under guilds down and selling them to other wizards. I assume that Genevieve was once in the Trade and that somehow she escaped or was rescued."
"Rescued?" Joseph looks up and his eyes are a purplish blue, matching his mother's.
"There is a...group of individuals from the five guilds that work to stop the Trade and free those ensnared within it." He hesitates, unsure of how much detail to go into. "I can only deduce that that is how Genevieve and Linda met."
"Who- who is Linda?" Joseph asks falteringly. "Genevieve never mentioned her before today."
Leander takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the questions that are about to come. "I believe that Linda is your mother."
Silence. Or, that is, between the two of them. The clamor of the restaurant suddenly takes the foreground- a trucker chatting with a waitress behind the counter, a family of tourists exclaiming over the scenery- which is, Leander has to admit- quite nice, a pair of what look to be locals discussing the amount of snow and what it might mean if it continues to fall heavily. Strange, he thinks, before glancing outside and realizing that not only has it started to snow, but that it is now snowing heavily.
"My mother," Joseph whispers. "This- this Linda person is my mother. What- what happened to her? Where is she? How do you know?"
"I don't know what happened to her or where she might be. I don't know for certain that she even is your mother, but," Leander shrugs his shoulders imperceptibly, "from what Genevieve said and what I know of her, it makes sense."
"So you know her, then." Joseph narrows his eyes and his eyes flash back to forest green. "How do you know her? Is there any way I can contact her? Why did she give me up?" The questions fly out of his mouth at rapid speed.
"I have been looking for her for a number of years, Joseph, and I do not know where
she is. Believe me, if I knew where she is to be found, I would go there immediately with you." He is the one to look down now, break the eye contact. If he found Linda, he isn't exactly sure what he would do- he wavers between shaking her, screaming at her- and kissing her senseless, refusing to let her leave him again. And with Joseph in tow...
He can't imagine the scene.
"As for why she gave you up...I can only guess. Linda was young- very young- and she was fighting the Trade, living under assumed names, moving from place to place, working a network of spies. It was not an easy life for anyone- much less an expectant mother. She must have learned she was pregnant with you and ran. I-" He cuts off, unsure of how much to reveal at this point. How do you tell a twelve year-old that not only are you his father, but you did not know he existed up until two hours ago?
"So you knew her, then?" Joseph asks for him, but before he can answer, their meals arrive.
"Here you go! Is there anything else I can get you?" Danielle smiles widely, waiting. They both take time to survey their plates before shaking their heads.
"No, thank you," Leander answers for Joseph as well.
"Well, you enjoy your meals. Just wave me over if you do end up needing something." She leaves, and Leander is once again faced with the complicated question. He dodges it for another moment, taking a bite of his trout, while keeping an eye on Joseph nibbling at his hamburger.
Finally the boy looks up at him, and he knows he can no longer ignore him.
"I know her," he replies quietly, placing his napkin on his lap. "Or I knew her, I suppose. I thought she was dead or that the Trade had gotten her. I haven't seen her in thirteen years now, though I looked and looked for her when she first disappeared- and still have kept an eye and an ear out for her on the various networks."
"So- you were in this resistance too?" Joseph takes a sip of Coke, eyes not wavering from him.
"I was- still am. But it is not something that bears any weight on this conversation." The Trade is not something that Joseph needs to know about in any detail, nor of his exact involvement- not now. He may only have known the boy for a few hours, but there is something inside of him, a stirring, that fully claims him as his own- as his son- and for the first time in his life he finds himself being, well, parental.
"Okay, well, then did you know my father?" His heart nearly stops. The question was going to have to come eventually, he knows this. But it catches him off-guard. He thought he would have to lead into it, and yet Joseph is ahead of him, wanting to know the one question he can answer with (near) certainty.
The one question he is least prepared to answer.
"I- yes," he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second. "Yes, I know your father."
"Who is he? Where is he? Why didn't he get me?" The questions are spit out in fury, leaving Leander no time to answer or think.
"I- Linda didn't tell him. He never knew. Believe me, it was just as a surprise for him as it is for you." He pauses, knowing that he can't go any further unless he is willing to outright lie- or tell the complete truth.
"To be honest, Joseph, until there's a blood test or we get a hold of your Weirbook, there is no proof of your parentage. But," he raises a hand, stopping the child from interrupting, "after today, based on your appearance, your power, what I know of Linda and her disappearance...I believe that I am your father."
Author: in_excelsis_dea
Characters: Leander Hastings, Seph McCauley
Fandom: Heir Series
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Prompt: firstline_fic week 23 A____, a______ and a____ walk into a bar.
AN: You can find the first chapter here. Spoilers of Seph's parentage, obviously. I've never been to Canada, so thank MapQuest, Google and the Ontario Parks website along with the Mattamy Homes as an approximation of where Leander and Seph started out (about ten or so minutes past Stouffville, Ontario). Oh hyperfocus, how you make me anal about miniscule details in my fiction... Enjoy.
"A preacher, a rabbi and a monk walk into a bar." They are greeted with the joke as they walk into the diner, a couple of older men laugh, seated at the booth next to the door. The rest of the joke is lost under the clamor of pots and pans, a cook calling a waitress to hurry and pick up a platter of food, and the noise of other patrons eating dinner.
This is not usually a place he would be dining at, but in his long life he has learned many times over that beggars cannot be choosers, and unless he wants to drive another two hours, this is the best he's going to find. And, to be honest, he isn't sure he could last another two hours in the car with a sullen adolescent, who goes from staring at him accusingly to ignoring him to watching him expectantly, as if he's just going to blurt out the information and then dump him out of the car.
Not for the first time, Leander is reminded that his experience with children extends to training warriors and that's it. And something tells him that working with Joseph- he finally asked the boy his name once they were in the car- is not going to be the same.
Far from it, actually.
"We're going to eat here?" Joseph asks, adding five words to the possible ten he's said to Leander the entire drive. The others were "Joseph McCauley" in response to Leander asking his name, "twelve and a half," in response to Leander asking his age, "yes" to asking if he had lived his entire life with Genevieve LeClerc, "no" to if he had any idea who Linda was, "no" to if he needed to use the restroom and "no" to if he was too hot from the heating, after Leander had finally grown tired of his squirming in his seat.
"Yes," Leander keeps his answers short and surveys the crowded dining room before spotting an empty booth against a window in the corner and bee lining for it. Joseph trails after him, eyes taking in the surroundings. He slides in the booth, his back to the wall, and picks up a menu lying on the table. "Order what you wish."
Joseph slides into the other side and eyes him skeptically before taking up the menu and reading it. The moments pass in silence before a tired waitress, trying her best to be cheery, shows up, order pad in hand. "Welcome to Perry's. My name is Danielle and I'll be your server. Can I get you anything, gentlemen?" She smiles largely, displaying white teeth. "Are you up here for the retreat?"
"...the retreat?" Joseph questions. Leander would prefer it if she just left them alone, but if she's getting the boy to open up, then perhaps her presence is not a bad thing. He makes a conscious effort to reign in his Persuasion, knowing full well the effect of Persuasion on Anaweir- especially Anaweir women.
"Of course, the Scout retreat. There's a father-son Scout retreat up in Arrowhead- it's about twenty minutes away from here, so we've had people in and out all day. You're running a bit late, though." She gives them a dazzling smile, but it is lost on them both.
Joseph is staring at her in shock and, well- he's not as calm as he'd like to be.
This is not how he planned this.
Not that he exactly planned anything in the first place...
"He's not my father," Joseph finally says, scowling at the waitress. "And I'm not a Scout."
"Oh, sorry!" The waitress flushes. "It's just- well, you look so much alike." She taps her order pad with her pen. "So I figured, well, you know- I didn't mean anything by it-"
"I'll have the trout, with salad as my side. And coffee, please." Leander cuts in. He has a feeling he'll end up needing the coffee.
"Oh! Um...a hamburger, with french fries, please. And a Coke?" Joseph half questions, looking at Leander, who merely motions with his hand that it's fine.
"I'll be back in a sec with your drinks, then." The waitress takes their menus and hurries off, already being called by someone in the back to pick up an order.
"So..." Joseph trails off, staring at his place mat.
"So." Leander echoes, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. "Your name is Joseph and you are twelve and a half years old. That woman- Genevieve- she was your guardian?"
"My foster mother," the boy keeps staring at the table. "She- she said my mother was a Toronto based flight attendant and my father was a software entrepreneur from California. And when I was about a year old, there was a fire in our house in the California Canyon and they died. Genevieve was my nanny and so she got custody of me, I guess."
"But you do not believe this." It is a statement rather than a question, and it causes Joseph to look up at him surprised.
"No, I don't." He says firmly. "I did some researching at school and in the library. There are no records of my parents, nothing in the newspapers about the fire. The only document that exists is my birth certificate."
"So you asked Genevieve."
"I asked her a lot," he looks back down at the table, pulls his napkin from underneath his silverware and puts it in his lap. "Even before I did the research- I just knew there was something wrong. It didn't feel right. But she wouldn't tell me and I'm really convincing on most people, but I didn't like to- I don't know, force it out of her."
"It's called Persuasion," Leander offers, and then stops as the waitress drops off their drinks and leaves again. He picks up his coffee, but does not drink, while Joseph dives into his Coke with gusto. "It's a wizard power- I assume she told you about the Guilds?"
"Not much," he admits, almost shamefully. "There are five guilds- Enchanters, Wizards, Warriors, Sorcerers and Soothsayers. We're born with a crystal in our chest, and our crystal determines what we are. I'm a wizard, she's a sorcerer. Wizards need training- but she always refused to find someone to teach me. The other guilds don't. She- I helped her shop for ingredients sometimes. And helped her stir things once in awhile. Potions for healing and stuff. But she didn't like to, er, advertise it, I guess. And she never liked me to use my powers."
"Wizards have a bad reputation," Leander sips his coffee. Not good, but it isn't horrible either. "And, for the most part, it is deserved. There are two Houses- the Red Rose and the White Rose. There was a war centuries ago- the War of the Roses?" He notices Joseph nod, "ah, so you've heard of it. Before the War of the Roses, there were many battles between wizards. This continued on for centuries until the War of the Roses was fought and a document called the Rules of Engagement was adopted. It is a nasty document that basically gives power- political power- to the wizards and regulates the other guilds as servants- which is why they are called the servant or under guilds. Since the fifteenth century, the other guilds have been sought after, kidnapped and tortured. They are forced into service to wizards. It does not surprise me in the least that your foster mother was wary of your powers- the Anawizard Wier have developed a deep distrust and dislike of the wizard guild."
"Genevieve said she was once in service to a wizard in France, and she had scars on her wrists she never talked about." Joseph keeps his head down, his voice quiet.
"Shackles, no doubt." Leander puts down the coffee, folds his hands on the table. "Throughout the centuries, wizards have committed travesties against the other guilds. There is a black market for the under guilds. It is called the Trade." He pauses, wondering how to bring up Linda. It is silly- he fought the Trade for over a century before he and Linda met, and he continued to fight after Linda's disappearance- and yet, the Trade and Linda are interconnected in his mind. He cannot think of the Trade without remembering her.
Or wondering where she might be.
"I've never heard of it," Joseph mumbles into his drink.
"I am not surprised. It is a nasty thing. There are traders- wizards- who read genealogies, tracing family lines, following leads, hunting the under guilds down and selling them to other wizards. I assume that Genevieve was once in the Trade and that somehow she escaped or was rescued."
"Rescued?" Joseph looks up and his eyes are a purplish blue, matching his mother's.
"There is a...group of individuals from the five guilds that work to stop the Trade and free those ensnared within it." He hesitates, unsure of how much detail to go into. "I can only deduce that that is how Genevieve and Linda met."
"Who- who is Linda?" Joseph asks falteringly. "Genevieve never mentioned her before today."
Leander takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the questions that are about to come. "I believe that Linda is your mother."
Silence. Or, that is, between the two of them. The clamor of the restaurant suddenly takes the foreground- a trucker chatting with a waitress behind the counter, a family of tourists exclaiming over the scenery- which is, Leander has to admit- quite nice, a pair of what look to be locals discussing the amount of snow and what it might mean if it continues to fall heavily. Strange, he thinks, before glancing outside and realizing that not only has it started to snow, but that it is now snowing heavily.
"My mother," Joseph whispers. "This- this Linda person is my mother. What- what happened to her? Where is she? How do you know?"
"I don't know what happened to her or where she might be. I don't know for certain that she even is your mother, but," Leander shrugs his shoulders imperceptibly, "from what Genevieve said and what I know of her, it makes sense."
"So you know her, then." Joseph narrows his eyes and his eyes flash back to forest green. "How do you know her? Is there any way I can contact her? Why did she give me up?" The questions fly out of his mouth at rapid speed.
"I have been looking for her for a number of years, Joseph, and I do not know where
she is. Believe me, if I knew where she is to be found, I would go there immediately with you." He is the one to look down now, break the eye contact. If he found Linda, he isn't exactly sure what he would do- he wavers between shaking her, screaming at her- and kissing her senseless, refusing to let her leave him again. And with Joseph in tow...
He can't imagine the scene.
"As for why she gave you up...I can only guess. Linda was young- very young- and she was fighting the Trade, living under assumed names, moving from place to place, working a network of spies. It was not an easy life for anyone- much less an expectant mother. She must have learned she was pregnant with you and ran. I-" He cuts off, unsure of how much to reveal at this point. How do you tell a twelve year-old that not only are you his father, but you did not know he existed up until two hours ago?
"So you knew her, then?" Joseph asks for him, but before he can answer, their meals arrive.
"Here you go! Is there anything else I can get you?" Danielle smiles widely, waiting. They both take time to survey their plates before shaking their heads.
"No, thank you," Leander answers for Joseph as well.
"Well, you enjoy your meals. Just wave me over if you do end up needing something." She leaves, and Leander is once again faced with the complicated question. He dodges it for another moment, taking a bite of his trout, while keeping an eye on Joseph nibbling at his hamburger.
Finally the boy looks up at him, and he knows he can no longer ignore him.
"I know her," he replies quietly, placing his napkin on his lap. "Or I knew her, I suppose. I thought she was dead or that the Trade had gotten her. I haven't seen her in thirteen years now, though I looked and looked for her when she first disappeared- and still have kept an eye and an ear out for her on the various networks."
"So- you were in this resistance too?" Joseph takes a sip of Coke, eyes not wavering from him.
"I was- still am. But it is not something that bears any weight on this conversation." The Trade is not something that Joseph needs to know about in any detail, nor of his exact involvement- not now. He may only have known the boy for a few hours, but there is something inside of him, a stirring, that fully claims him as his own- as his son- and for the first time in his life he finds himself being, well, parental.
"Okay, well, then did you know my father?" His heart nearly stops. The question was going to have to come eventually, he knows this. But it catches him off-guard. He thought he would have to lead into it, and yet Joseph is ahead of him, wanting to know the one question he can answer with (near) certainty.
The one question he is least prepared to answer.
"I- yes," he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second. "Yes, I know your father."
"Who is he? Where is he? Why didn't he get me?" The questions are spit out in fury, leaving Leander no time to answer or think.
"I- Linda didn't tell him. He never knew. Believe me, it was just as a surprise for him as it is for you." He pauses, knowing that he can't go any further unless he is willing to outright lie- or tell the complete truth.
"To be honest, Joseph, until there's a blood test or we get a hold of your Weirbook, there is no proof of your parentage. But," he raises a hand, stopping the child from interrupting, "after today, based on your appearance, your power, what I know of Linda and her disappearance...I believe that I am your father."